Disclaimer

I don’t feel I NEED to put this out there but I’ve been asked by a few that know me IRL if I am worried about the people that I write about in here occasionally will find out or if feelings are being hurt by what I write.   My answer is simply:  NO.    A journal is for someone’s personal feelings and opinions as well as sharing pictures and memories.   I kind of want this journal to live on long after I’m gone so what few family member I have left can, if they want look back on it and see what made me ‘tick’.    Also,  I do not feel that anything I write on my page is anything wrong.  Why should I censor my own feelings?   It’s not hate speech.    I have said on more than one occasion that writing has been good therapy for me especially since I lost the one blood relative I could spend hours and talk to about anything.  The day I lost my sister a huge piece of me died too and this journal is a way to help me cope and still get things out even though I’ve lost that person in my life.    I was in a very dark place for a LONG time after she passed and doing this has helped me get suppressed thoughts and feelings out.

With that being said,  if anything I say offends someone then I highly encourage you to click away.  I do not set out in a post to hurt someone but rather get whatever is off my chest.. OFF.      If I am going to have to live in fear on being criticized in my real life for something I am writing in my journal,  that’s not fair.    For a while recently those criticisms took the creative wind out of my sails and  I was half tempted to delete this journal but now that I’ve had time to think it over I am going to stay and keep on doing what I am doing.   Most of you, my readers I have never met and have graciously subscribed to me through one way or another.  I appreciate whatever reads and comments I get, but mostly it’s a platform for me to express whatever I am feeling.  if people want to come along with me for the ride called my life then they are more than welcome.  I try not to mention any names and only a small handful of you know me outside of wordpress.

Ok then..  with that being said,  hopefully I will be back to regular programming shortly.

Spinning yarns vs just plain bullshit

This has been good therapy writing about things from my past that have taken residence in my memories all these years.  Just about every little thing you go through as a kid can be considered a life lesson,  and sometimes you learn things by watching other peoples’ mistakes.    In this case, it was my ex.

He was all about status and how he looked to others. It was that mentality that rocketed me to an eating disorder and made me think for many years that I wasn’t good enough for anybody except for him.   When you’re in a mentally and emotionally abusive relationship the days all blur together and it’s very easy to get into the mindset that the way you are living at that very moment IS going to be the rest of your life.    I know I could have left at any time and I should have left, but I didn’t.   Thus the life lessons that I learned while I was with him.

He was very insecure.   Like, VERY insecure.   Every human being has some form of insecurity inside them.  It’s normal. Everyone, whether they choose to admit it or not really does care what others think about them.    Some of us just hide it better than others.    X tried to impress others by stories.    Stories I heard a million times whether or not I was actually there at the time or not.  He had a twist though,  he would twist the truth and add details every time he told it in order to get more of a reaction from his audience.   At first I thought it was a unique creativity he had in telling stories… but later on I saw it for what it was.  A really sad attempt at making people think he was more interesting and mysterious than he really was.     After a while, out of morbid curiosity  I would purposely bring up a particular story for him to recant to those we were with just to see just how much more he would twist a story that was originally very normal. At the time I didn’t see it as mockery, but that’s exactly what it was.   He was so serious when he would tell about these ‘experiences’,  and I found it entertaining to see just how far he would stretch it.      This is an example of what I mean.

Original story:   (What I actually witnessed)

One day at Disneyland we were standing outside of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride.    A girl who was smoking a cigarette and dressed in denim walked past us into line leading up to the ride.  As she passed underneath the arch that read “PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN”  she took her cigarette out of her mouth and flicked it at the wall near where the trash can was.   It bounced off the wall and landed nowhere near the trash can as she continued into the ride.

End of story

The story that it ended up to be:

We were at Disneyland standing outside of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride.  Suddenly we heard behind us a ‘TIK TIK TIK’ sound.  We turn around and see this tall thin REALLY ANGRY chick walking past us.  Her hair was spiked up in several jelled spikes,  she had on a denim jacket with spikes and the “TIK TIK” sound we heard were the metal spikes on the bottom of her what HAD to be 8 inch, if not longer heels.   She was dragging long heaves on her cigarette and looked like she was ready to fight anyone that looked at her wrong.    So, there was a sign right next to the entrance of the ride that says “No smoking past this point”.    Without breaking a step she takes one last heave on her cigarette and flicks it (imitates a peeetoyyeeeee sound to enhance the fact she flicked it so violently from her hand )   It bounces right off of the part of the sign where it says ‘no smoking’ and sparks fly everywhere.   There were a group of tourists standing nearby that had to step back otherwise the cigarette sparks would have hit them.  Oh my god!  It was so crazy!

annnnnd  scene!

The second story captivated his audience and got more of a reaction so therefore while he told it he was the center of attention.   He did that all the time even with the smallest of topics.   Another example,  his cousin Rusty.. who I was terrified of meeting by the way he was described to me.   The day I met him I thought I would be meeting a guy that closely resembled Charles Manson.   Scars all over his body from the numerous fights he was in throughout his life.   He only had tunnel vision in one eye due to being hit by a rock by a group of kids while he was younger.  He barely spoke and had a wolf as a pet, oh.. and a squirrel as a pet too.

Rusty turned out to be the sweetest person I had ever met.   (Years later after I had long left the X,   he considered me a part of his family.   His mom had taken me under her wing and helped me get back on my feet since I had invested everything I had in my relationship.  I had zero money, no place to live and decided that being desolate was a better option than continue my life with X which was clearly going nowhere.  My mother had recently passed away and I had nowhere to go,  Rusty and his family were my saving grace… seriously, I can’t even begin to say how much I love and appreciate them. ) Rusty had a rough life and did have run ins with the law, served jail time and battled drug problems.  He loved his motorcycle..   Unfortunately he was in an accident several years ago that resulted in the loss of one of his legs.  Through the rough exterior and everything he had been through in his life the man had a heart of gold and fought his demons to the very end.   Shortly after getting out of prison he moved back in with his mother and committed his time to fixing up his motorcycle and reconnecting with old friends.   One day he told his mother he wasn’t feeling well and was going to go take a nap.   He never woke up.   I never wanted to know details,  but from what I heard from others that he had some preexisting  health issues that caused his heart to stop.  Living hard finally had caught up with him.    His death hit those that loved him the hardest…  I’m so thankful that I had the opportunity to know him and that he considered me family.    If I had listened to X and his ridiculous stories I may never have.

X is no doubt still telling outrageous stories to this day to anybody who will listen  in desperate attempts for attention.   Stories about how he’s a direct descendant from King Charlemagne and how his father’s job at TRW involved alien communication (I’m not making this up)    Being around him all those years ago taught me to be real with people.   If they don’t like you for who you are,  then making up a story isn’t going to make any difference at all.   In fact,  chances are if you do that then people will most likely laugh behind your back instead.   Which is worse?

rusty
RIP Rusty…  ❤

Everything happens in your life for a reason… good OR bad, it all has a meaning

I’m a huge believer of that.

Have you ever,  with morbid curiosity ever wondered how your life may have turned out if you had taken another path in your life?   Made a different life changing decision,  stayed in a situation where you knew it was slowly killing you but too afraid to make that first brave step to independence?   I did… recently.    And I can honestly say I have only ever done this once and this was the first AND very very last time I will ever do such a thing.

I wasn’t seeking it out hoping that I could have missed out on something great.  My life right now is fantastic and I wouldn’t change a thing.  I guess the curiosity mainly stemmed from wondering if karma had indeed made herself known to that person that I shared my life with for over 12 years.

This person I chose to share my life with during my younger years was in a word insecure.  Very very insecure.  I didn’t see it at the time but he desperately needed attention and admiration to deal with his life.    To be blunt,  he was more fucked up than he would ever dare to admit.    His parents weren’t the best of role models.   His dad was some bigwig stuffed shirt at TRW that had a lot of money (or so he said)   and his mother worked for a telephone company (I think)    From what I had gathered by what he told me his dad was a playboy from day one and lied, cheated and ran out on his mother more than once.   When he was very young his mother and father decided to leave one another at the same time, leaving him to fend for himself alone in his apartment.  He used to tell me that he stayed there for a few weeks alone before his mother finally came to collect him and his belongings but in the meantime  he would go to school,  come home right afterwards and only eat whatever was easily accessible in the kitchen that he could open with a can opener and cook on the stove.   Later on in his high school years his father would throw money at him and pat himself on the back calling himself a good and loving dad.   He didn’t know at the time that his dad was really just giving him the child support money directly to his son,  to spite his mother.   The times he lived with his father there were a revolving door of Asian women that would frequent his time, leaving his son to raise himself  (and soak in like a sponge what a pathetic pig player his dad was,   treating women like playthings,  telling his son to lie to the ‘girlfriend’ from the week before if he was asked if there was another woman in his dad’s life)

I met him during a chorus ‘field trip’.  I can’t remember exactly where we had gone that day but my friend and I sat across from him on the bus and I was instantly attracted.    He held himself as if he was THE shit..  rode to school in a limo that his father paid for and concentrated more on his bad boy image than anything else.  I think I just liked him back then because he was different,  and he distracted me from all the drama and shit that was going on in my own world.   My parents were going through a nasty divorce and I hated being home around all the negativity.   It was a constant reminder that the family that I grew up to know was all gone and all I had of the happy times were memories.  He was my ticket out of that place,  and I grabbed it as quickly as I could.     I started ditching school with him and spent practically every waking moment with him,  my mom would let him stay over pretty frequently  (after getting me on the pill, that is)   After his class graduated (he didn’t, because he felt he was too good for school) his dad got him an apartment  and I moved in with him.     We stayed together for 12 years and in those 12 years he cheated on me repeatedly (or ‘he gave them self esteem’ as he called it)   and finally I was just done.  I walked away from what was left of that relationship and never looked back.

I’m not saying he was the only person at fault for the demise of our relationship.  I know I was difficult to live with at times.  I wasn’t a great housekeeper and I was so insecure that I let him basically do whatever he wanted from the beginning.   Keeping a relationship together, especially as young as we were would take a lot of work on both parts.  Unfortunately we became too comfortable with our situation and started to accept that this was how our lives were supposed to be.  Looking back on all of now though, I don’t see how I did it.

Forgiveness and Fear

Boy,  this is going to be a tough one.   It’s been on my mind a lot lately so I may as well get it out.   Now that I’ve gotten my writing mojo back for a time there are a ton of other drafts sitting waiting to be completed,  but those can wait a bit longer.

When people in your life start dying it’s normal to question your own mortality.    When you’re young it rarely (or at least with me)  crossed my mind that I, too would grow old, sick and die someday.   Death seemed like a long long way off so why even worry about it?    You hear about so and so who died after a long battle with cancer,  or so and so who was killed in a car accident.    Either way it starts to sink in that death is inevitable and eventually your time will come.

My grandma on my mom’s side passed away after suffering from dementia.   My last memories of her were when she was in the nursing home crying without her teeth.   The staff had misplaced them.     She was thin and gaunt and didn’t look anything like the grandma I used to watch Benny Hill with.  The worse she got the less I was taken to see her.    Eventually I didn’t go at all,  I think my mom wanted to make sure I remembered her in a more positive light,  which I can say now I’m glad she did.    Grandma passed away one day and I think my mom was by her side.   I asked her what happened when she died and she said  “She just let out one breath then that was all”.

My mom died from cancer back in 1998.    She was a lifelong smoker and didn’t go to the doctor until it was too late.   It started with lung cancer but had already spread to her brain.   The doctor told her there were so many he stopped counting lesions after a while (what an awful thing to say!)  Mom was sure she was going to fight it and in the early days of the internet she had heard of a new drug called Hydrazine sulfate on a news program.    I remember her calling me and saying this would be her cure.   “I’m going to be at your wedding someday!  I’m going to hold my grandkids someday!”   she would tell me.   I looked up everything I could on that drug and silently prayed nightly that she was right.  She endured radiation treatments to no avail.   The cancer was too advanced.      The last few months of her life she had distanced herself from me.   Once again my mom was protecting me from the grim reality that she was dying.   I didn’t know until years later that a hospital bed was brought to the house and that’s where she stayed until hospice took her.    I also didn’t know that by then she had wasted away to less than 100lbs,  was in diapers and mentally had reverted to a child.

Alzheimer’s took my father back in 2000.   He used to be such an intelligent man.   Worked for Skylab and then for Hughes Aircraft.    He was always there for me when I needed help with my homework and some nights we would just sit and play chess.   His disease progressed slowly and looking back on it all I could tell he was changing but I didn’t know exactly why.   After he left my mom and married Donna the story around the house was that dad was manipulated into going with her because he had Alzheimer’s. Up until my stepmother recently came back into my life I thought that very same way as well.  Now,  after re-getting to know her I see what is the truth.   My dad belonged with her.   She took great care of him in his later years and only when he needed medical care did she reluctantly admit him to hospice.   She would visit him often and more times than not she said he wouldn’t know who she was.  Donna cared for my dad as long as she possibly could and for that I am so appreciative that he had her.  Along with that,  the other thing I’ve come to terms with is that my mom,  even though I know she loved my dad,  wouldn’t have been able to handle my dad in this condition. The last time I went to visit him was in 1998 (I think it was just after my mom passed away).   My half brother and I drove out to Palm Springs to visit and he had no idea who we were.   He kept asking me if I was family.   Only once through the whole visit did I see a glint of recognition in his eyes and he started to cry “Oh, Stacey!!  my princess!   You’re here!!”    He hugged me,  we cried together then a few minutes later he was back to  “Are you family?  You’re so pretty!”  It broke my heart seeing him that way,  and I didn’t want to admit it at the time but Donna handled everything so well.    She had moved them to a housing area that was completely fenced off.   Dad had started to wander and if he did manage to get out of the house without Donna noticing  the extra security was for his own good.    Dad also fought prostate cancer   as his Alzheimer’s progressed and came out of it cancer free.   There was one incident in the hospital where he had managed to get out of his hospital bed,  remove all his catheters (including his urinary one,  ouch!!)  and became combative with the hospital staff when they tried to get him back to his bed.  Through all that I don’t think my mom could have handled it.   Dealing with someone whose mind is going must be as equally draining physically as it is mentally and emotionally.    The fact she did it as long as she did I applaud her for and am so thankful that I have this chance now to talk to her about things that I had always wanted to talk to her about.   We’ve been given a second chance,  and it feels good to tell her how much I appreciate her.     My dad would be happy if he knew that her and I were talking I bet.   I think now all he wanted all along was for me to accept her and support him being happy,  but back then I just couldn’t.   In my teenage mind all I saw was another woman stealing my father away and I couldn’t get past that.   It’s amazing how your mindset changes after you experience life, hardships and the real world.   Everyone deserves to be happy in their lives and I do believe in soulmates.   Dad belonged with her,  and that’s why things worked out the way they did.

 

 

DAD

With all of that being said now, this brings up “THE” subject that’s been weighing on my mind.  Alzheimer’s is inherited which means I could have the gene that carries the disease.  The fact that I may eventually start losing my memories and mind scares the shit out of me.   I’m not going to lie.   I am on quite a few medications for blood pressure, depression and an appetite suppressant and within the past few months I’ve noticed I have had a short term memory issue.   It’s especially obvious at work when I can’t remember names not even a minute after someone tells me.  I’ll walk into a room and forget why I was in there,  or the most annoying thing is when I leave the room to go do something like get a drink of water but I get distracted en route and end up making numerous trips until I finally am able to focus on what I ORIGINALLY entered that room for.    Overly sensitive?   me?    maybe… but look at the definition of Alzheimer’s.

What an awful death sentence to have.     I can’t help but wonder if my dad knew what he had or if it just gradually drifted him away to the point where he didn’t care.   I should ask Donna that.

How can you place that kind of burden on those that you love if you know you have the possibility of having that disease?  In that way I am a lot like my mom.   But on the same page,  what will happen to me if I do get to the point of wandering, diapers and being combatant?   It frightens me to tears and I don’t know how I should feel.  Just like my mom who would have meant well with my dad but would not have been able to care for him properly… how can I place this kind of responsibility on my loved ones?     I’m planning on meeting with a lawyer as soon as I do some more research so I can get my wishes documented for peace of mind.    Right now as things are,  I can’t in good faith subject anyone to the task of caring for me if I become an invalid.   I’m lacking that sense of peace that comes with knowing everything is going to be alright.

Or does that come later?   God I hope so.

Words cannot even….

What I’m about to post is very graphic and may not be for sensitive viewers.    So, if you are easily offended,  perhaps use some caution if you are going to read further.

My job involves all aspects of animal care.    Whether it be people first getting a puppy or kitten and needing information on taking care of it from step one,  to people who treat their animals like objects.    It’s those people,  the ones that say “Eh, I just feed it whatever is the cheapest at the store when I go.  Doesn’t matter.”    Most of those people I can deal with using a calm, level head.    Perhaps they were raised that way,  where pets aren’t members of the family but just ‘animals’ and don’t know any better.     Sometimes I can change that person’s way of thinking and get them to see that cat or dog as a loyal friend.    Usually it only takes a bit of education and answering a LOT of questions on mine and of course the veterinarian’s part in order to achieve that.    When that happens,  it’s so rewarding and it always reminds me why I chose to get into the line of work that I am in.

However,  there are other cases where things go the totally opposite way.    Today was one of those days.    Our game warden came into the clinic and asked if we had a microchip scanner he could use to scan a dog.   I told him he could just bring the dog in and I’d be able to do it.   He replies with “Oh no,   there’s no way I can get what’s left of him out of the back of my truck”

……

So I went outside with him with the scanner to check the remains of this dog for a microchip.   I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to see.   Laying in the back of that truck was a gutted, mostly eaten carcass of a young shepherd mix.    It’s insides were completely gone as well as the dog’s eyes.    We couldn’t tell if the dog was male or female due to the sheer mauling of this poor dog’s body.     Also in the back of the truck with this dog sat a large wire crate with the front door removed and laying next to it.   The cage had quite a bit of damage to it as if it had been kicked, rolled or…  chewed on.     After moving the microchip scanner across both sides of the carcass (over the beetles and maggots that were all over, ugh!)  and finding nothing I had to turn away and then hold my breath from the smell of death and decay.   The game warden proceeded to tell me how he came to find this dog.    A morning jogger had happened upon it at one of the remote training areas.    The dog had apparently been locked in that crate and left out there.    Then,  at some point a predator, most likely a pack of coyotes found the dog sitting there in its crate,  got the door off and tore the poor dog to shreds probably eating it while it was still alive.   The thought of what that poor thing must have gone through up until those wild dogs got into its crate and killed it just sickens me.   I can’t even fathom it.    What kind of human being does that?  Did they think that leaving it out there would result in someone coming along and taking it home and keeping it as a pet?    Were they really that ignorant to risk doing that to this innocent creature who probably wondered by it was being left behind as the only owned it had ever known sped away from sight?   I’m just speechless over this.    All I want to do is somehow find these people involved and turn them in.   Make sure they get what’s coming to them.   Hell, if I had my way they would have the same thing happen to them.   Let them sit in a wire kennel waiting for predators to come out of the woods to eat them.   The worst thing about this whole thing is since it is a military post where this dog was found on,  then the person or people involved are soldiers or relatives of soldiers.   People who defend our freedom.   If those kinds of people are the ones who are out there ‘defending our freedom’.    then I hate to say it but we’re fucked.

and that’s all I have to say about that.

Spring thoughts

Got out of the house today, did some shopping and took a drive.     With it being in the 70’s early last week,  then snowing a few days ago everyone seemed to have emerged from their house on this much sunnier day like a bunch of groundhogs.   Driving through the small downtown area where I live I  passed car after car with happy dogs hanging their heads out the window, people walking their dogs and jogging.  It was nice to just park and watch the world go by today,  kind of made me with I had taken my dogs along with me but maybe next time very soon!   They deserve to bask in a day like this too!    It reminds me of when we were in Germany and the weather would be cold, grey and rainy for weeks on end.   Then, one one sunny day you see everyone scrambling outside to take in the good weather before it went away back behind the clouds.  It always reminds me of a story that was once told to me in grammar school,   about schoolchildren on a planet that only saw the sun once in a lifetime.  One of the children would talk endlessly about how beautiful that day would be when it finally arrived and her schoolmates locks her in the broom closet as an innocent prank.   The sun suddenly rises and everyone is dazzled by the beauty and warmth of it all.    Then, as the sun sets all of the school children suddenly remember their friend who they had forgotten locked in the closet.   When they let her out she walks out slowly and looks up into the now darkened sky, every bit of light gone from sight.   She had missed her chance to see it,  (I just googled it and it’s called “All Summer in a Day”   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/All_Summer_in_a_Day   It’s funny how on days like this I always think of this story but never thought to look up the name until I decided to include it in this blog.

I have found myself talking just to hear myself talk and annoying everyone around me. Is it possible to lose your social skills when you go from having a regular circle of  friends to talk to, to having nobody that can relate to how you feel (or is possibly just sick of hearing you repeat things over and over again?) I used to have friends around me that I felt comfortable confiding in about everything.  I was also a pretty good listener.   Now I feel like my listening skills have dwindled because all I want to do is talk.   If I was on the receiving end of that I know  I would  be hella annoyed.. so I’ve just learned to repress it more. Keep it all to myself, for now at least and as a result   I’ve just wanted to sleep my weekends away.   Friday evening will come and I’ll look forward to just climbing into the safety of my bed with my dogs around me.  Saturday morning will turn to Saturday night,  then Sunday, Sunday night and then ready to start the workweek once again.   Unproductive but I’m fine with that now.   I don’t think I could stick with a project now even if I wanted to.   No idea why but right now I’m just not worrying about it,  I mean… there’s always next weekend,  or the weekend after that… or that…  or..  whenever..

This whole reconnecting with my stepmother and hearing actual facts about my dad instead of the things I’ve had to make up over the years in order to feel some form of closure has really blown my mind.   I don’t know how much longer my step mother is going to be around to talk to so I’ve been trying to ask as many questions that I can without sounding like a freak.  I also apologized to her for being such a giant pain in the ass back when I was a teen.   I didn’t take my parents’ divorce well at all and Donna dearly paid for it.   My dad really seemed happy with her so who am I to feel any ill will towards what they had?   They ended up together for a reason, and I feel that dad died happy having her in his life.  Soulmates.   I hope she accepts my apology and knows that it means the world to me to have reconnected with me after all of these years.  You really start to think about your own immortality when you look back and realize that most of your family has passed on.   It really does a number on your emotions and it’s completely drained me.   I know EVERYONE goes through a form of this at some point.   Whether or not I’m handling it well is yet to be seen.  I DO know I am not the person I was a year ago,  or even 6 months ago.    Something about me has changed,  my whole outlook on life is different.  I guess I’ll find out someday if that’s a good thing or not.

Having a few hours out in this sunny day felt good though.. it makes me want to take drives more often.

Closing the account on an emotional investment

Have you ever been so damn disappointed in someone in your life with the choices they have made for themselves?   You don’t have any tie to this person except for being their friend but for some reason you, being the outsider just can’t help but get frustrated anyway.   I’m in that position.   Not going to name any names but once I considered this person a very close friend.   Overall I like to think I’m a friendly person (although some people have said I make ‘expressions’ with my face where I look like I’m angry? Not intended… )  but very few people have I opened up to and let in.  I have a lot of emotional baggage and have learned that it takes a very special person that will be there for you through good AND bad, who will listen when you need to vent rather than just have you there so they can vent.   I’ve become associated with  too many brick walls over the years to want to let just anybody know who I really am deep inside.   Isn’t that what a  friendship is?

Well,  this person and I have been friends for a few years now.  We lived closer for a while then had to move our separate ways due to work.   We stayed in touch as much as we could and made plans to see one another the next possible chance we had.    The next time we did get together though,  they had changed.   Their attitude was nothing even close to what I remembered,  like I didn’t even know them anymore.  The first thing that they said which raised a red flag was they were talking about another friend they had back where they were currently living.  A comment was made “I tell them they are my best friend but really YOU are!”    Then, off and on throughout the visit we heard complaints and insults about that ‘best friend’ back home.  Pretty venomous stuff.     My husband and I planned a vacation with them and we went for my birthday.    That trip turned out to be the major turning point in our relationship  (me and the person, not me and my husband)    I felt almost like we were embarrassing them on that trip.  They would  go off a lot on their own (or so we thought) and I took that as we were boring or bothering them.   By the time the trip was over I was looking forward to everything getting back to normal.   Just being around that person was awkward and uncomfortable all the way up until they finally left to go back home.  For one thing,  I kept thinking back to the awful things they were saying about the person who thought they were so close.  Who is to say that exact thing wasn’t being done to me and my husband?  I bet it is.   Finally, once we got back they confided in my husband the real reason why they kept disappearing during our vacation.   It seems that the people we had seen them with the night we ditched them after we heard them call out to us,  turned out they had a stash of weed,  so instead of being honest I guess it was worth making the extra effort to lie to us about it.   Did they think I would judge them? embarrass them?  I’m thinking the latter.   I do admit that towards the end of the trip my husband and I did see them a few times hanging out with some people who I can only assume were ‘those’ people.  One night we e heard our names being called out but we pretended not to hear them.  It had gotten to the point where we felt if we were ruining their trip, embarrassing them and making them look bad,  then why subject said person to further humiliation around these new friends? Don’t get me wrong, the vacation wasn’t ruined at all despite all of this needless drama.   My hubby and I had a wonderful time on our own and made some amazing memories.  The night before our trip was officially ending,  I had my birthday dinner.   My husband and I got dressed up and had a wonderful time.  We were seated next to a mother and daughter who were a lot of fun, AND the staff of the restaurant already knew it was my birthday so they sang and I got a mini dessert with a candle to blow out.  Of course my ‘friend’ was nowhere to be seen but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.  After all,  in the end I married my TRUE best friend and that’s the best birthday present I can ever ask for.   Ever since then I haven’t gone out of my way to communicate with them.    They are miles away and even though before I would have said I wished they were closer that is NOT the case any longer.  The further the better.   It really hurts being lied to,  and it hurts even more since it was on my frigging birthday.   The fact they toss around the title ‘best friend’ to just anyone  (for what purpose? ) really cheapened how I once felt for this person.  It really gives you a used and empty feeling when that’s done to you.   For the record, I wouldn’t have cared if they smoked pot from beginning to end of our vacation.   It’s a shame I was looked upon so lowly to be lied to.    Whoever picks a temporary high over friendship isn’t worth my time or effort.   It’s just such a disappointment it had to end like that.

I hope writing this doesn’t make me sound like a snob because that isn’t intended.   It’s just a subject that’s been weighing on my mind for a while.   This is my form of closure I guess, and writing about it helps.

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So there 🙂

Closure….. reopened (sort of)

Like I said before,  my stepmother and I have recently reconnected and a lot of old emotions have been resurfacing.  My dad passed away back in 2000 and even before then we had no contact for about 4 years before that.   Even before that our relationship was pretty strained… mostly because of what happened between him and my mother.  I blamed my dad and his new wife for everything and went out of my way when I was a kid to make their lives (well, mostly her life)  as miserable as possible when I was around.   My mom and dad had a very long and ugly divorce and so because of that my whole world was turned upside down.   Therefore I did what any normal teenager would have done.  I lashed out at everyone around me.

So, needless to say when my dad passed I knew he was in advanced Alzheimer’s  but really nothing more.  I was told in the form of a phone call from one of my half brothers.   All he said was “He’s dead”.   Both my half brothers which were dad’s sons from his first marriage had written dad off years ago.   They are off in their own worlds to this day and I never speak to them.  So as far as my father,   I had no contacts that could tell me anything more so instead of living a life of so many questions I started drawing up my own conclusions in order to feel some sort of closure.  One conclusion being that he went to his grave hating me.   My stepmother Donna’s reaching out to me online a few weeks ago was a total unexpected surprise.    At first I was really cautious with my wording with her because her and I had such issues in the past,  but now after talking to her several times I’m coming to terms with a lot of things.   The main one being is she loved my dad with all her heart,  and that they were in love back in their high school days.   Even when they both separated for a time and went onto other relationships Donna always held a torch for my dad.   Then when he started getting sick and showing signs of dementia she took care of him up until his final breath.    The fact my dad was happy is all that matters.  This is still an extremely hard thing to wrap my mind around and I’m taking it one day at a time (it’s hard not having my sister around to talk to…) .    I never thought this day would come… ever.

She recently sent me  a small package with the following letter.. I was home alone when I opened it so thankfully nobody was around when I sat and held the letter for an hour sobbing uncontrollably.  I hadn’t even peeked in the package yet.

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I always thought my dad didn’t even give me a second thought after I lost contact with them.  What I had figured was my father was happy with his new wife and disowned me and my two half brothers.   When I was younger I felt abandoned by him and left it at that.  I mean, if I attempted to contact him then I would have also have to talk to ‘her’ and to me she was the enemy.   So I considered my father gone from my life.   In fact, I considered the whole “Norris” family gone from my life.   I didn’t want any part of being a Norris any longer.    It broke my heart but I never told anyone that.   Well,  I told one person, my sister.

Inside the little package was the following:

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The picture with him and the older gentleman is my grandpa Norris.   He died when I was very young.   I barely remember him,  in fact all I do remember is going to visit him shortly before he died.     We went to my grandparents’ house and he was laying in bed with an oxygen tank next to him.   I remember climbing up on the bed and saying “I hope you feel better grandpa”  and seeing his eyes well up with tears.  Later on in the car on the way home my father told me that what I said to him was very nice and it made him happy.   I wish I knew more about him… I’m hoping my stepmom can help me out a little bit as long as she’s still willing and able to answer questions.  From what she has told me so far though,  dad’s father was his hero and he grew up to be more like him, rather than his mother who was……  well, let’s just say people in the neighborhood used to call her ‘that mean old woman’.

The picture of the girl with the giant hair is me..  yeah…   1988.   They had those studios in the mall called “Headshots” and my sister took me there for a birthday present.  They tease, tease and spray your hair up as high as it could possibly go,  then they stick it to a board.    When you leave there you look like a peacock since the back of your head is flattened from the board.    I don’t even remember giving my dad this picture and I’m so surprised he kept it in his wallet all of those years.    It means a lot to know this..

As I’m getting to know my dad all over again I’ve been going through a lot of emotions.  It’s been hard to concentrate when my mind gets churning about all of this.   It’s like I’m trying to make sense of all of this information at once which is literally impossible!    Hopefully I can sort this out so it’s manageable soon before I go crazy but until then it’s one day at a time.     I’m grateful I have Donna to talk to though,  if you would have told me a year ago that I’d be in touch with her again I would have never believed it.     Maybe dad made this possible somehow from wherever he is so I’d have some real closure…maybe?

An idea came to me..

and it just came out of the blue.   As I’ve said before since losing/misplacing my wedding ring it has affected me greatly.  I have no idea what happened to it,  absolutely NO IDEA and that alone is driving me crazy.  But anyway,  I’m not going to get back into that since it stresses me out every time my mind starts churning over this.

I inherited a ring from my grandmother.  One of my earliest memory of my grandma is of her going into her knick knack cabinet and bringing out 3 diamond rings.    She would show me each one and tell me about how one of them would be mine someday when I was older.  I received my ring back in late 1997 a few months before my mother passed away and it’s been safely tucked away since then.   (at least I did that right!)     Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about that ring, and they say that everything happens for a reason. No matter how awful the thing and how terrible the situation,  there IS a reason behind everything that happens and even if it takes years to manifest itself.     What if that ring my grandma left me all those years ago was meant to be a part of my wedding ring all along?    Oddly enough ever since that thought entered my mind it has given me a sense of peace.    Destiny?   The whole reason behind why this horrible thing happened in the first place?    I’m beginning to think so…

Has this ever happened to anyone else out there?

It’s never like when you’re young…

I’m a real baby when I’m sick or injured.   When I was young and I was sick my mom waited on me hand and foot.    I was set up in my room comfortably in my bed,  the small TV from the kitchen moved into my room so I could watch it between naps.    Mom would bring the TV tray in and set it next to my bed with either soup, crackers, 7-up or whatever else I ask for (no milk products during a fever though!  I learned that the hard way!)   She had my medication schedule timed to the exact second in her head so if I needed that dose of Amoxicillin you can bet I would get it every 12 hours.   Bottom line,  my mom went into full on mama bear mode when I was sick.   She always knew how to make me feel better whether it be her doting over me or coming in to check on me several times a day.  When I had surgery for a dislocated shoulder I remember she brushed my hair and tied it back into a pony tail twice a day so it wouldn’t get tangled.   I was stricken with Chicken pox during the time of my Kindergarten graduation (hey, to a little kid that is a HUGE deal!) and I cried for days that I couldn’t attend.  Mom would sit and comfort me while she put dabs of pink Calandryl lotion all over the spots.    She didn’t rub it in like, say suntan lotion.. nope, she covered each spot!   Oh, and every day that I was out of school she packed my lunch box just like normal so I could eat it during what would be lunchtime at school.  Little things like that make a huge difference,  especially for a little kid.  It was such a warm and safe feeling having your mom care for you like that,  God I loved that.   Even a few years after I moved out and was living in Lake Tahoe I came down with a horrible flu while housesitting for one of my grooming clients and the first thing I did was call my mom.  It was instinct… and just by hearing her voice and having her tell me what to do to take care of myself it always helped.  Kind of like a warm hug from my mom even though she was miles away.  (with the flu,  she would put a semi flat glass of 7-up in another room and I would get up occasionally to walk into that room for a sip.   She felt that moving around a little bit along with tiny sips of flat 7-up was the key to helping the pukies.  I never questioned it,  and for me, it worked!)  I remember laying there in that strange home shivering from a fever with the phone pressed to my ear talking with my mom.  She made it all better just by being her.

I believe she instilled a bit of her mothering techniques into me when my loved ones are sick.  When my ex was on the cusp of dying from cancer I did the same thing for him that my mom did for me.  Same with my husband,  minus the cancer part…    it was the way I was raised,  mom taught me how to mama bear just like she did right down to the internal medication timer.  My mom rocked!

I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t hit me kind of hard the first time I got sick and I wasn’t treated the way I was when I was home with my mom.  It just felt like a natural thing:  You’re sick+ you get taken of =  you get better faster.  I learned that not everyone was raised in the same way and it has taken me a long time to accept and understand that.    The first time I was sick life went on as usual.  I stayed home from work and slept through my medication time.  Later on that evening I was asked what I was making for dinner that night.   What?   But I’m sick!  There was no flat 7-up, propped up pillows or doting.    I admit, I felt insulted at first, but its irrational to be angry..   Everyone is raised differently and who am I to complain when someone doesn’t make a fuss over me even though I’m sick?   I can’t help but secretly wish I still had that kind of care.    In fact, every time I still get sick or hurt to this day I hope that somehow, someone would bring me soup or tuck the blankets around my feet or let me sleep without waking me up several times to let the dogs out or show them the ‘proper way’  how to microwave food.  (ugh)  Even though I’m sick the animals still have to be fed,  laundry has to be done and the house cleaning has to be kept up on.  Otherwise getting sick puts me back weeks in chores (and also gives me 5 angry hungry animals to appease)

Those days of being young and having my mom there to take care of me are long gone….  😦    Someday I hope I see her again so I can thank her.